Sand & Snow
by CoutureWriting
Summary: "No matter what becomes of our family, and as much as I say I would die if anything more were to happen to mine, we do go on. We do. We do. We have to. If the good people do not rebuild this kingdom and their lives, then who will?" Nymeria wondered if it was Jon to whom she spoke, or herself. Jon/Nymeria (future, post-war, features Daenerys as Queen) rating may change later


**Hello to my new readers and to my old faithful ones (most of who are concerned I will not continue The Queen in the North, but I shall. I am half way through a chapter, but I have some nice old writer's block and have been terribly busy with uni lately. Sorry. New chapter should be up within the next week I hope). I had a little bit of a brain snap when I took a break from writing TQITN, and started this little thing, which is a little bit of an exploration of possibly some romance for Jon. As often as he as paired with Sansa, I still cannot bring myself to ship them myself (even if he is Lyanna and Rhaegar's son), but I thought the infamous Lady Nym would be a good pair for him, as he'd definitely be able to relate to her, as she's a bastard, and is every bit as strong a woman as Ygritte. Anyway, here goes nothing! Review if you like it, and even if you don't, and I'll love you for it. I know it's a short first chapter. Each chapter will be alternating between Nymeria and Jon, but I'll put it in the heading so it's not confusing. **

**Thank you all. **

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NYMERIA

For what felt like the hundredth time that morning, Nymeria sighed and wondered if the small council meetings would ever seem any less dull to her. She did what she could to alleviate it – tapped her fingers soundlessly on the wooden table, allowed her gaze to wander to the breaking waves down on the bay, or stare intently at a fine detail in the face of whomever was talking – but to no avail. Boredom had set in.

Summer was well and truly upon them, and the air was sweltering, and though she preferred the dryness of the Dornish summer, she did not dislike it this new heat. How could she, when she could still remember so well the chill of winter that had not so long ago suffocated the land? Or the terrifying, murderous white walkers – the stuff of children's' nightmares – that had been destroyed by the queen's dragonfire? Summer was a blessing, always. The people were no longer starving; bread was no longer worth more than gold and freezing winds haunted no one. Except perhaps the Northmen, though Nymeria thought them mad anyway.

It was Jon who was now speaking. The Hand of the Queen. She smiled despite herself. Though she saw little Targaryen in his long, brooding Stark features, people often compared him in nature to his now-apparent father, Rhaegar. As the Queen's nephew, he was a natural leader, after all, he had commanded the Night's Watch before it had been dissolved, and earnt Daenerys' favour quicker than most.

Nymeria did feel privileged to be on the small council, even if she felt out of place and ill at ease. It was an honour to be asked, at least … and an honour for Dorne, too, and her father's memory. Still, she thought perhaps Sarella would be better suited to the intrigue and politics of the court. Nymeria, for all her gratitude, missed home terribly.

The queen's request for a Martell to join her small council had gone a fair way to repairing the fragmented Targaryen-Martell relationship, easing the blow her family had been dealt when Rhaegar Targaryen had abandoned Elia for the Stark girl. Despite that when she had arrived, Nymeria had sensed some disappointment in the queen that a bastard had been sent in place of a trueborn Martell, they had quickly grown fond of each other, and the queen now accepted her counsel as sound and sought her company freely.

"I am tired," Daenerys announced suddenly, interrupting Jon with an apologetic smile. "We have been here for hours, my limbs have turned to stone, and I fear the sun is almost set. Let us take our leave early and leave this business for the morrow."

Nymeria nodded in enthusiastic agreement, a motion followed by several others, including fat Grand Maester Tarly, who many believed too young for the role, despite his being chosen by the queen at the behest of Jon. With a grateful sigh, Nymeria closed her books. She could have kissed the Daenerys' feet for calling the meeting to an end.

The room emptied quickly, until only she and Jon remained. She stood, clutching the books in her arms and smiled gently at him. Though he had only just seen his twentieth nameday, he moved and looked a good deal older, perhaps even older than Nymeria herself, at seven-and-twenty.

"Wine?" he offered her a cup, and she took it, standing awkwardly with her things lodged under one arm. She observed his grace as he poured his own cup, and then resumed his seat at the table.

Rather than stand, Nymeria took the queen's vacant seat, and sipped at wine, which was perhaps too sweet for her taste. When she looked up, she met Jon's gaze.

"I have never been to Dorne," he mused eventually. "Do you miss it very much?"

"Very much," Nymeria said after a moment of thought. "Though I do not think myself as one prone to sentiment, I miss my sisters. And the smells. Sometimes I catch scents of home in the perfume of one or two ladies of the court and it sends me into bouts of homesickness, but it was a great honour to be asked to sit upon the small council."

Jon nodded. "I think about Winterfell every day. A part of me wishes I were still there, and my sister Sansa has invited me home more than once. But without my father or brother there, I don't know how it would feel. I am happier, I think, believing they live on there."

Though she did not comment on it, Nymeria noted the terms _sister_, _father_ and _brother_. It was well known that Jon had not adjusted to the revelation of his parentage well. He was still prone to sign papers as 'Jon Snow' until gently reminded by Daenerys to use his true name. For however rushed or disputed the ceremony, Rhaegar _had_ married the boy's mother before his birth.

"I understand," said Nymeria quietly. "I hear the Queen in the North has restored Winterfell to quite its former glory." Inwardly, Nymeria felt a sense of pride that the Stark girl had inherited the title, rather than either of her younger brothers, just as succession was done in Dorne. _Properly,_ she thought.

Jon smiled sadly. "I hope so. Though it will take years for the Northern houses to recover, there are so few men left. And my sister is still, as yet, to take a husband." He smiled at that, and then quickly sobered. "I fear her experience in war taught her to be more cautious of knights, lords and _princes_, and their pretty, empty words. It does not matter. She needs no man, or children, to rule."

Nymeria smiled despite herself. "She has proved herself very capable, indeed."

Jon looked at her once again. "Tell me more of your sisters. I enjoy stories of Dorne."

Nymeria smiled. "My sisters? Of which would you like to hear?"

"All."

"Very well, my lord. Where to I begin? Chronologically, I suppose. Well, Obara is the only one older than I. My younger sisters and I often tease her that she was born into the world ready to fight, a spear in hand. Whatever men say she lacks in looks, she makes up for twofold in strength and skill, often besting them at their own game. Her loyalty is unwavering and she reminds me very much of my father in all ways but looks," said Nymeria wistfully. "She is perhaps the only one who misses him more than I."

She drained the contents of her cup before continuing. "After me, there is Tyene. She is a great beauty. Despite her bastardy, men have proposed marriage to her so many times that we have quite lost count. Her mother was septa, though I do not know her name, and my sweet sister pretends to have inherited all the good graces of one, but it is only a farce, and she is one to be quite wary of. She looks not a bit like any of us, and took after her mother. She is all golden hair and blue eyes. A bard once sang of her beauty for a day straight when she asked him to. If she makes an enemy, they usually turn up dead, as she has quite a slight hand with poison."

"She sounds quite frightening," chuckled Jon, refilling both of their cups with more of the sweet wine. "Who comes next?"

"Sarella, she's a peculiar one. She's meant to look the most like me, but we couldn't be more different. Really, it is she who should be here in my place. She loves to learn whatever she can and would be constantly sticking her nose into other people's business. She would make a good Master of Whisperers, perhaps, rather than Master of Laws, like me. Her meddling used to irritate my father to no avail, but it has proved useful more than once."

She sipped at the wine for a moment. "The rest of my sisters – Elia, Obella, Dorea and Loreza, are all the daughters of Ellaria Sand, my father's great love. Elia, the oldest of those four, would only be three years younger than you now, though acts more like a horse than a lady. The other three are as thick as thieves, and very alike, though it frightens me sometimes how like Obara, Tyene and I they have become."

Nymeria laughed despite herself, and took another gulp of wine quite hurriedly. "Ellaria is gentle and kind, but she does not understand how we continue to hold a grudge for the deaths of our aunt, cousins and our father, too. She appears to be in constant worry of what we might do, or worse yet, what her own daughters might do under our influence. Still, my father loved her very much, and she means a great deal to me, as do all of my sisters. I think I should die if anything happened to any one of them."

Jon nodded. Nymeria knew he must have been thinking of the loss of his own brother and father. Half tempted to take his hand and give it a comforting squeeze, she opted instead to stand, and press a gentle kiss to his forehead.

Collecting her things, she was just about to leave before she turned and said, "No matter what becomes of our family, and as much as I say I would die if anything more were to happen to mine, we do go on. We do. We do. We have to. If the good people do not rebuild this kingdom and their lives, then who will?"She briefly wondered it if it was Jon she spoke to, or herself.

With one final, sad smile, she turned on her heel and left the room.


End file.
